


Won't Be Broken

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom gets hurt, and Cochise is suddenly struck by how frail humans are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Be Broken

            There’s a nice path just outside the main part of Charleston that Tom likes to walk along when he needs to get away from the stresses of being President.  Cochise always worries, but it’s still inside the perimeter that the Volm set up, and he has his gun, so he’s completely safe.  Sometimes he does bring Cochise along for a nice stroll, away from the prying and judgmental eyes of Charleston, but most days he needs a little alone time.

             One day though, he steps wrong and ends up rolling his ankle.  It’s not a big deal and he manages to limp back to camp without too much pain. 

            Okay, there’s a lot of pain, and he’s kind of tempted to sit it out and wait for someone to come find him.  That’s not a very Presidential plan, though, so he grits his teeth and keeps going until he gets back to the infirmary.

            The upside/downside of being President is that when he limps into the infirmary, everyone freaks out and he gets immediate attention.  It _is_ nice to not have to wait, but, honestly, they’re making a big deal out of nothing.

            He ends up with an ankle wrap and crutch.  Tom rolls his eyes and tries to give back the crutch, but Anne insists and presses some pain meds on him.  Totally unnecessary, but he finally manages to get out of the infirmary. 

            It’s late, so he makes his way back to his room.  There’s light coming from under the seams of the door, which makes him smile in anticipation.  Tom knocks gently to give warning and then opens the door.

            “Hey, Cochise,” Tom says, limping in and shutting the door behind him. 

            Cochise looks up and then inhales deeply through his noseholes.  Tom knows that’s a sign of distress for the Volm.  “What has happened to you?  Did someone injure you?”

            “Nah, don’t worry about it,” Tom says, “It’s just a sprained ankle.”

            Cochise gets up and scoops him up, his crutch clattering to the floor.  “What happened?” 

            Tom laughs a little and wraps his arms around Cochise’s shoulders.  “I stepped wrong while I was out on a walk.”

            Face full of concern, Cochise sets him gently on their bed.  “What else?” 

            “What do you mean?” Tom asks carelessly, starting to get undressed for bed. 

            “What else happened?”

            “Nothing.  I just sprained my ankle on some uneven ground.”

            “You are certain?”

            “Yeah!” Tom pauses in taking off his undershirt to look up at Cochise, kind of surprised at how difficult he’s finding this.  Sure, they sometimes have problems communicating because of their cultural differences, but this feels different. 

            “Your species can be seriously injured just by walking on uneven terrain?” Cochise says.

            “It’s not serious,” Tom says, pulling his shirt off the rest of the way.  “Just a sprain.  I’ll use the crutch for a few days and I’ll be fine.”

            “This is very concerning,” Cochise says.  “I knew your species was fragile, but…”

            “Hey!” Tom protests.  “We’re not _fragile_.”

            “You injured yourself on uneven terrain while relaxing on a walk,” Cochise says. 

            “It’s no biggie!” Tom says, tugging him over.  He presses his lips to Cochise’s cheek.  “It’s sweet you’re worried, but it’s alright.” 

            “I am not convinced, but I will refrain from calling your species fragile,” Cochise says. 

            “Thank you,” Tom says, kissing him again.

            “Do you wish to go to sleep?” Cochise asks. 

            “Yes, please.”

            Cochise gets up to turn the lights off and returns right to bed, wrapping his arms securely around him.  “Goodnight, Tom Mason.  I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

            The next morning, Cochise watches him like a hawk.  He helps him in the shower- not in a sexy way- and helps him get dressed.  Then he carries him down to the commissary for breakfast.  It’s completely unnecessary, obviously, but Cochise insists and being carried by him is possibly one of Tom’s favorite things.  There are perks to dating an alien. 

            But then they get food and Cochise takes his knife and fork.

            “What are you doing?” Tom asks, trying not to laugh.

            “I am cutting up your food for you,” Cochise says matter of factly.  “I am worried that you will choke on your food.”

            Tom fails at not laughing.

            “This is no laughing matter.  I have recently become aware of how delicate your species is, comparatively, and as your mate and as the military officer charged with protecting this planet, it is my duty to ensure your safety.” 

            “This might fall a little bit outside your jurisdiction.  I can manage my own food, you know.  I’ve done it for decades before you arrived on the planet,” Tom says, touching Cochise’s cheek.

            Cochise mutters something in Volm, but reverts back to English when Tom raises an eyebrow.  “I merely said that I do not know how you survived.  It was, partially, an attempt at humor.”

            “You’re developing a sense of humor.  Very funny,” Tom says, smiling. 

            Unfortunately, when Tom takes a sip of his water, the water goes down the wrong way and he starts choking.  Cochise looks at him, wide eyed and looking as scared as Tom has ever seen him.  Tom tries to gesture at him to calm down, but this only seems to alarm him further, so Tom just grabs onto his arm to keep him from running to get unneeded help. 

            Finally, Tom can talk enough to say, “I’m fine.”

            “You cannot even consume one of the substances most necessary for your survival without danger and causing yourself pain,” Cochise says, resting his hand on Tom’s.

            “It’s fine,” Tom says.

            “The past day has been very alarming and eye opening,” Cochise says.  “I will keep watching over you.”

            And he does.  For the rest of the day, he carries Tom to his meetings and then stands silently behind him.  There is a lot of laughing in their wake, but Tom doesn’t care.  Mostly he’s worried that Cochise is going to overexert himself. 

            That night, they are sitting in Tom’s office when Tom decides they need to talk.  While it was fun for a day, Cochise constantly following him is not sustainable.  He presumably has other duties.  With anyone else, he would figure that it would trickle off, but he knows Cochise and knows that Cochise has incredible reliance and is incredibly devoted to him.

            “Cochise, you don’t have to do all of this every day,” Tom says, looking at him across the desk.

            “I am worried about your safety,” Cochise says.  “And I enjoy keeping you safe.”

            “It’s not necessary,” Tom says.  “Do you wanna tell me why you’re so concerned?  Like, maybe on a little deeper level?”

            Cochise gets up and comes around to his side of the desk, kneeling to get on his level.  He brings his hands up to cup Tom’s face, stroking gently.  “We live very dangerous lives.”

            “Yes, we do,” Tom says.  “But you’re used to that; you’ve been fighting this war longer than I have.”

            “I have never fought it like this,” Cochise says.  “For, while it is true that I have fought for decades, I have never fought along someone for whom I have such deep feelings.  If you were Volm, I would ask you to be my broodmate.  It is very alarming to think of losing you, and even more alarming to think of losing you to walking on uneven ground or attempting to drink water.”

            Tom sits in stunned silence for a minute.  “I know how scary that kind of thing is, and I am so terrified of losing you, too,” he starts slowly, with a familiar pang associated with Rebecca.  God, he misses her.  “But none of the things that have happened in the last day could kill me.  I obviously can’t promise that you’re not gonna lose me one day, but it’s not going to be over a sprained ankle.  That, I’ll promise.”

            “I am glad for the honesty, especially because it is only partially what I wish to hear,” Cochise says, releasing him and setting his hands on Tom’s knees.  “You are a wonderful mate.  I am very glad that I was stationed on this strange planet and was able to meet you.”

            Tom leans forward and presses his lips to Cochise’s forehead.  “Even though we are a frail species?”

            “Yes, Tom Mason,” Cochise says warmly.  “Even though you are a frail species.” 

            Tom smiles.  “Do you want to take me to bed?”  He knows how much Cochise likes to cuddle, even though he doesn’t actually admit it.

            “Can I carry you?” Cochise asks.  “Just one more time?”

            “Yeah,” Tom says. 

            Cochise gets up right away and scoops him up again.  Tom snuggles happily against his chest.

            “I really do like this,” Tom remarks on their way back to their room. 

            “I am glad that today has not been altogether unpleasant for you.”

            “If I really didn’t like it, I would have said something.  Promise.”

            Soon enough, they are cuddled up in bed, Tom’s head resting on his chest.  It’s so relaxing and Tom breathes in his scent.  This is nice.  This is the kind of thing he wants for the rest of his life, whether it’s a long one or a short one.

            “I would say yes, you know,” Tom says, breaking the silence. 

            “What?”

            “If I was Volm.  And you asked me to be your broodmate.  I would say yes.”

            There’s a long pause and Tom wonders if he’s overstepped some kind of boundary.  After all, it’s not possible for Tom to magically become Volm so this can happen, and he only kind of knows what being a broodmate entails.  It’s kind of equivalent to a marriage, but he knows that’s only a rough equivalent.

            “That makes me feel.  So.”  Cochise clears his throat.  “I am sorry, but I do not know the words in English.  There’s no adequate translation.”

            “Is it bad?”

            “No.  It’s good.  It’s very good,” Cochise says.  “This is a very good feeling.”

            “That’s enough for me,” Tom says, flooded with joy.

He leans up to kiss Cochise, long and slow.  It feels different, somehow.  Cochise’s hands are splayed along his back, holding him close. 

When they pull apart, Cochise says something in Volm, and this time? Tom doesn’t need a translation.


End file.
